In the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time
by TempestWolf999
Summary: Mrs. Hudson leaves on vacation to visit some family, leaving her niece, Tia, to look after the flats. Sorry for the bad summary... *I am looking for someone to help co-author this. If you are interested, please PM me.*
1. 1

**Okay! I like this idea for a story, and have wanted to try it for awhile. Constructive criticism is welcome, but please take into account that I'm fairly new to this and most of the writing is done on my phone. Here goes...****The whole story will be written in the P.o.V of my O.C., Tia.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Sherlock_. Or London. Or a guinea pig...**

**Warnings: Minor swearing.**

* * *

Tia Hudson did not entirely understand what the word 'eccentric' meant. She was a 24 year old lady living in the 21st century; she didn't need to know things like that. After using Google (See? 21st century.), she found that it was another word for a very odd and unique person.

Tia's aunt, Martha Hudson, had asked her to come and 'take care of her flats' while she was away visiting family for a few weeks. Tia, being the sweet person she was, agreed to the... whatever it was. The more her aunt talked, the more she was convinced that it had been a bad idea.

However cowardly it was, she had almost told the cabby to turn around several times now. That probably wasn't a good thing, but Tia couldn't bring herself to care.

As the cab came closer and closer to 221 Baker Street, Tia began to feel anxiety build up in her chest. She swallowed and pulled out the small mirror that she kept in her purse and looked at her reflection. It looked the same as it always did; messy red hair pulled back in a ponytail and bright green eyes shining behind thin-framed glasses. Tia never wore much makeup, but she wanted to look presentable to whoever her aunt's tenants were. Deciding that she looked good enough, Tia put the mirror back in her purse and looked out the window.

To her right was some place called Speedy's, and to her left was her aunt's place. The cab stopped, so she grabbed her bags and got out. Walking over to the door of her aunt's flat, Tia knocked the knocker.

Martha Hudson opened the door with so much excitement and joy that Tia struggled to keep a straight face. She laughed on the inside and followed her aunt inside.

"Oh, put your bags down there, dear. I'll get Sherlock to bring them up in a minute- oh, speaking of, he's the one I told you about," Mrs. Hudson raved.

Tia contained her laughter and her joy at seeing her aunt again.

"The 'eccentric' one?" Tia asked, her forest green eyes sparkling.

"Yes. He... well, you'll see. We could go up and meet him now, if you like."

_Okay then**, **_Tia thought. _My eccentric aunt talking about an eccentric guy._

"Sure, Aunt Martha," Tia said. "That'd be great."

Mrs. Hudson nodded sharply and led the way to 221B.

Tia half expected some guy with a weird mustache and half a clown costume on. She did _not_ expect... well, Sherlock.

Aunt Martha led the way up the stairs, limping on her bad hip.

"Sherlock, dear!" she called. "I've brought my niece- the one I told you about. Do try to be nice, please?"

Upon entering the flat, Tia was encountered with a mess. Things were lying everywhere- papers, dishes with unknown substances, and... a gun?

Lying on the sofa with his hands in a steeple under his chin was a man. He seemed young, but she couldn't tell for sure. He wore a blue dressing gown over messy clothes. His hair was dark, and his eyes were closed.

"No, Mrs. Hudson, I have no recollection. Must have deleted it," Sherlock said. "You don't happen to have any liquid nitrogen on you, perhaps?"

"Some _what_?" Mrs. Hudson asked. "No, dear. I just wanted you to meet Tia. Please don't-"

Sherlock jumped gracefully into a sitting position, his eyes now open. They were a startling light greenish gray. Both Tia and Martha Hudson jumped slightly.

"Well, she's an online college student with two cats at home, a white one and a tabby. Father was absent, mother was an artist. Abusive boyfriend... broke up with him not long ago. Fairly small friend group... I'd say four, maybe five, but likes to socialize. Was close with her grandmother until her untimely death. No siblings. Doesn't travel much, is nearsighted, enjoys reading and-"

"Sherlock, I think that's enough, dear," Mrs. Hudson said with a small voice.

Sherlock blinked.

Tia was staring in shock. He was right on every single point... there was just no way that he could know all of that.

Her aunt fixed Sherlock with a hard look and said sternly, "Say you're sorry, dear."

Sherlock blinked again. "But I'm not," he said, seemingly completely confused.

Tia kept staring.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room for awhile until finally Sherlock spoke again.

"Did I get everything right?" he asked.

Tia was usually a very patient and controlled person. She dealt with what she had formerly considered as impossible people with relative ease due to her laid back personality. Sherlock, however, crossed the line. Not only had he invaded into her personal life, but he had also displayed less acceptable manners. Tia Hudson was, to say the least, less than pleased.

"Who the hell do you think you are!?" she snapped.

"Language, dear," her aunt whispered softly as Sherlock just stared at her blankly.

"So I was right, then," he said. It wasn't a question.

Her tolerance for his quirks ended there. _Who does he think he is?_ she thought. She carefully regained her composure before speaking again.

"Yes," Tia hissed, "You were bloody right. I'm sorry, Aunt Martha, but-"

"Well, I did warn you, dear."

"-But I don't think I can tolerate this. In fact, I think it's hazardous to _your_ health to be living with a psychopathic stalker, don't you?"

"Sherlock isn't a stalker, dear."

Emotions coursed through her faster than she could identify them. Her aunt was living with a psycho. She was supposed to take care of said psycho while her aunt was away. Tia snapped. She didn't mean to, especially not at Aunt Martha, but this crossed the line.

"Oh, really!? You heard what he just said! How the hell could he have known that without being a fudging psychopathic stalker?"

"Your necklace."

Both of them turned to Sherlock, who was watching them. He seemed bemused and... bored. Yes, he definitely found their _completely civil _conversation boring. Go figure.

"What about my necklace?" Tia asked, clutching the heart-shaped silver locket.

"It was a gift from your grandmother. See the engraving? 'To Tia, From Grandma Jane. I'll be with you in your heart forever.' Can't get much more obvious than that. So, you and this Grandma Jane figure were close. Consider the words: 'I'll be with you in your heart forever.' She knew that she was going to die, so she had the locket made as a keepsake for you." He made a face. "Sentiment. Disgusting. Anyhow, it's quite new, so there's your untimely death.''

Tia glared. "Yes, she died of cancer about seven months ago. How'd you know about my cats?"

"Simple: There's cat fur on our clothes. Two different colors-two cats. I know they're yours because you would have been on a train all day yesterday and have changed clothes. Therefore you brought the animals with as well."

"Yes, and there's nothing you can do about it," Tia snapped, an idea coming to her. She had promised her aunt that she'd take care of the flats. So, she would, and she'd give the insufferable psycho a hard time in the process, starting with the location of the litter boxes. She had seen his obvious dislike for cats instantly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"How'd you know about everything else?' Tia asked. Now she was only asking to get on his nerves.

That plan failed. If anything, he seemed excited to. Just as he was about to ramble off some more stupid excuses for stalking, Mrs. Hudson interrupted.

"Well, now that you know each other, I'd best be off. Tia, make yourself at home in my flat. Disregard any stupid rules Sherlock sets about cleaning, just do what's on the list. There isn't much. Sherlock, behave, and be a dear and carry out my bags? Then bring in Tia's."

"High-functioning sociopath," Sherlock said.

"What?" Tia asked.

"You called me a psychopath. I'm a high-functioning sociopath," he said. With a final bone-chilling glare sent in Tia's direction, he went off to do as told.

Tia went down to settle into her aunt's flat, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

* * *

**A/N: I usually hate O.C.s. They seem to be either overpowered, the center of attention, or just don't fit in with the story. However, I am making an exception because this seems like a neat plot. As for updating, I have no schedule, so... yeah. I doubt this will be good as I'm still new to this, but I'll do my best.**

**Thanks!**

**TempestWolf999**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is #2. Thanks to the one person who reviewed!**

Tia was understandably not very happy.

After a talk over the phone with her aunt, she found out that there was another person living at Baker Street who was on vacation. She got into bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep.

Perfect. Just great.

If that wasn't enough, she woke up at 1:41 a.m. to repeated explosions going off upstairs. Quickly, like any sane person would do, she leaped out of bed, threw on her bathrobe, and ran upstairs to see what was going on.

Sherlock was lying idly on the couch, staring at the ceiling, with a pistol in his hand pointed at the wall. The wall had holes in it. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

Seething, Tia managed to hiss out, "What the _bloody hell _are you doing?!"

He glanced at her passively and said with a nonchalant shrug, "Bored."

She honestly did not know how to respond to that.

"You're bored," Tia stated in a flat tone, just realizing that her hair was sticking up in about twenty different directions.

"Yes. I already said that."

"And you're shooting the wall."

"Yes. Problem?"

To say that she was offended would be a slight understatement.

"Do I have a- Of _course _I have a _bloody_ problem with you shooting the _bloody _wall at _bloody_ one-forty-one in the morning!"

"One-forty-seven," Sherlock replied in a monotone voice. He pulled the trigger, and another explosion went off as another hole appeared in the wall. Tia jumped.

"You _are _a bloody psychopath!"

He glanced at her again, seemingly annoyed. "I am not bloody, nor am I a psychopath. Now, if you would have the decency not to barge into people's flats at _bloody one-forty-one in the morning_, I would be _oh so greatly _obliged."

Tia had no idea how he managed to sound sarcastic while keeping his tone of voice monotone.

"It's one-forty-nine," she snapped.

"You came in here at one-forty-one. Bye-bye."

He glared, and she went back to bed.

The next morning, Tia got up and made some coffee. She usually drank tea, but when one wakes up feeling exhausted, they tend to want some caffeine. After choking down the bitter black liquid, she got dressed and sat at the table, staring at her blank phone screen. Beside her she noticed a white three-ringed binder with a note next to it.

Picking up the note, she read:

_Dear Tia,_

_I can't thank you enough for agreeing to look after the flats for me. I understand they alone can be a bit _

_of a handful. About John and Sherlock- well, you've met the latter. John is quite a bit more civilized, and_

_things should get better once he gets back from vacation. Some important things should know: _

_First, Sherlock's occupation is not normal. It is about as strange and unpredictable as he is. You may run into_

_some strange and/or frightening things because of it. Don't panic. It will be fine. Just try to stay out of it all. _

_Next, John has a daughter named Rosie. She is three now. If you could help watch out for her a bit, I would feel _

_a lot more at ease. Sherlock tends to leave out a lot of dangerous poisons and chemicals. Stay away from those, and don't_

_trust anything in the fridge or the cupboards. Keep all of your food items in my flat. In Sherlock and John's fridge, you may_

_find severed body parts. Don't be alarmed. Sherlock legally gets them from the morgue. He is not an ax-murderer or _

_anything of the sort. Lastly, sometimes some officers come by to do "drug busts" on the flat. Just stay out if it._

_There is a lot more that you will discover while staying there. I have left some instructions in the binder._

_Stay safe!_

_Love,_

_Aunt Martha._

The note had been slightly alarming, to say the least. Tia had known it was from her aunt before reading it because of the familiar, neat scrawl. It was odd, really. Her aunt seemed to find Sherlock and this John character... endearing.

The only promising part of the note was the part about things getting better once John got there, supposedly with his three year old daughter.

Tia liked kids. She didn't mind watching out for the little girl. She didn't like the bit about the poisons. It was concerning. Then there was the part about the drugs.

Her aunt had put quotations around it, meaning that it was fake. Then again, the police would have to have a reason for a drugs bust, so Sherlock may have a history. That was some ammunition, at least.

Paging through the binder, Tia found information on her chores. It wasn't bad; most of it was just cleaning up.

Deciding to get started right away on the cleaning, Tia went to find the vacuum cleaner. Just as she pulled it out of the closet, there was a muffled knock on the door.

Upon opening it, she found a man with a girl in one arm and several bags in the other.

"You must be John," Tia said.

"Yeah," he replied. "Can we come in?"

Tia was tempted to do what her schoolteachers had done and say, 'I don't know, can you?', but she refrained and nodded, stepping aside for him. He walked inside, set the girl down, and turned back to Tia.

"You're Mrs. H's niece, then?"

He was much more polite than Sherlock.

"Yeah."

"Sherlock hasn't caused you too much trouble?" He asked as he caught Rosie before she crawled up the stairs.

She didn't know how to respond to that.

John sighed heavily. "What did he do?"

"He shot the wall, and I think he's a stalker."

John sighed again as if this were a regular occurrence.

"He's not a stalker, and I'll talk to him about shooting the wall."

Finally, another civilized human being, Tia thought.

"That'd be great," she said as he and Rosie went upstairs.

She then went back to vacuuming the floors.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! Chapter 3 is here. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.**

* * *

P.o.V - Tia

Martha Hudson was somewhat spontaneous. She didn't always think things through, and she usually never one to point fingers. But, Tia figured, she had been right about one thing: John's arrival had made life easier.

She liked to stay as far away from her aunt's tenants as possible, and even so she had noticed a difference. She stopped waking up to gunshots in the middle of the night. Apparently, Sherlock played the violin. Or rather, he liked to scrape at it aimlessly just to cause noise. John had gotten him to stop.

Then there was Rosie. The little girl had instantly stolen Tia's heart. She watched out for her as much as possible as her aunt had requested, feeling responsible for some reason for the child's well being.

Tia was sitting in her kitchen when the front door opened. She was startled. Sherlock and John were both in their flat, and she assumed that any friends of John would knock. It was unlikely that Sherlock had any friends beside John due to his not-so-charming personality. She was scared, but she wouldn't admit that to anyone. So, as soon as she heard the door open, Tia grabbed a cast iron frying pan and put her glasses on the table. Then, she went to investigate.

Creeping toward the front door as stealthily as she could, she held her weapon in a defensive position, waiting to meet her adversary. When she got there, she raised it to hit whoever had come into the flat, only to be stopped by the one and only Sherlock Holmes.

"I see the family resemblance now. Miss Hudson, if you would be kind enough not to pound my brother's head in before I get the chance to tell him to leave, we would all be obliged. I don't think anyone wants to clean his brains up off of the carpet."

The man who had trespassed seemed offended, yet emotionless at the same time. "I beg your pardon, brother dear? I am here with a matter of national importance, and-"

"Oh, national importance. Boring, Mycroft, boring. There's the door," Sherlock snapped. "Bye-bye."

Tia didn't like the look of Sherlock's brother. He seemed almost... colder and more threatening, if that was possible.

"Sherlock-"

"I don't want the case, Mycroft. Now, if you don't leave, I'll let Tia pound your head in."

Mycroft glanced at Tia skeptically, as if doubting that she'd do it. To make a point, she raised the frying pan again.

"Sherlock," he finally said, turning to the door while swinging his umbrella, "You may not want the case, but you will want and need something else."

With the air of a man who has suffered much, Mycroft Holmes handed a manilla envelope to his brother and opened the door just as John came downstairs.

"And Sherlock?" Mycroft called as he exited the building, "Don't panic when you see the contents, for all of England's sake." With that and another swing of the umbrella, he was gone.

Tia glanced at Sherlock, who was staring at the package as if wondering what was inside.

"What was that all about?" John asked.

"My brother," Sherlock replied while still staring at the envelope.

"Yeah, I know. How'd you get him to leave?"

Sherlock grinned and said, "I said I'd let Tia hit him with her weapon."

John looked at Tia, then at Sherlock, then at Tia again as if wondering what to say. He decided on mumbling, "Jesus, you're insane," under his breath and heading back upstairs.

"You know," Sherlock said, still staring at the package, "Mycroft is practically the British government when he's not being the Secret Service or the CIA or whatever. You almost hit him with a frying pan."

Tia stared at him, trying to figure out if he was lying or not.

"Do you work for the government?"

He shrugged. "Indirectly. Sometimes directly, just to annoy him."

"So you're not lying?"

"Nope."

"Will I be sued?"

"Nope."

"What's in the package?"

He shrugged. "For all I know it could be a map to the nearest Chinese takeout place."

"Then why don't you open it?"

Sherlock sighed heavily. "Because I hate it when he's right."

"Right."

There was a moment of silence, the Tia spoke again.

"I almost attacked the British Government with a frying pan."

"Yep. Don't worry. Once when we were kids, I set his trousers on fire."

They stared at each other for a second, then burst out laughing.

John came down the stairs, looking somewhat agitated.

"Can you quiet down? I'm trying to get Rosie to sleep."

"Sorry," Tia said. Sherlock shrugged. Again.

John sighed. "Come upstairs. We can open Mycroft's mystery envelope there."

Sherlock nodded and started up the stairs, and Tia stood still.

"Coming?" Sherlock asked.

Tia blinked, surprised that he was actually inviting her into their flat. "Um, yeah. Just let me get my glasses."

She ran back to her flat to retrieve them, then up the stairs. John and Sherlock were waiting.

As soon as she arrived, Sherlock opened it and pulled out a pack of papers. Paging through them, he smiled and pulled one of them out. Tia saw that it was, indeed, a very authentic map to several Chinese places in London. She stifled her laughter as Sherlock kept paging through them. Finally, he just threw them on the table and they began to look through them.

"What I don't get," John said, "is why he told you not to panic. I mean, what about these papers is- Sherlock?"

Sherlock had frozen in place. He held a paper and his eyes moved over it so fast Tia had trouble believing that he was actually reading it.

"What? What is it?" John asked.

"You... remember Norbury?" Sherlock asked.

"Kinda hard to forget," he mumbled back.

Shelock nodded and handed the paper to him.

John froze in place and didn't move. The paper fell out of his hand and fluttered to the floor.

Tia picked it up and glanced at Sherlock. He nodded and she read the paper. It was a file.

_Rosamund Mary Morstan Watson_

_Occupation: Freelance assassin, Nurse_

_Born: May 12, 1982_

_Status: Alive; dead to the public. Held at Berkshire prison, Cleveland, OH, U.S.A._

_Spouse: John H. Watson_

_Children: Rosamund Mary Watson_

"She's your wife," Tia whispered.

John nodded slowly.

Sherlock was still reading papers.

"So, what-"

"Stop."

She glanced at him. He seemed offended in some way.

"What?" John finally asked.

"Too many people are faking their deaths. For awhile I thought- well, it doesn't matter anyhow. Wanna go break Mary out?"

"What?"

"Oh, for- Mycroft! What are you-"

"I thought the papers would be a better way to tell you. You'll need her for your next... case," said the British Government.

Behind him, a blond lady walked in.

"Hello, Mary," Sherlock said, glaring at his brother.

P.o.V. - You

_You watch your victim go about their home as if they would be there forever._

_They were foolish._

_Everyone is._

_Hell, _you _consider yourself to be and idiot._

_But it doesn't matter._

_You can shoot and fight._

_That's what matters._

_You pull the trigger._

_Your victim drops dead._

_Idiots._

_Almost everyone is an idiot._

_Including you._

_But that doesn't matter._

* * *

**A/N: Well, I updated... I forgot the disclaimer in the other two chapters, but I don't own any of it except Tia and the plot. Okay? Okay. I decided to try the You P.o.V. thing. A book I read had it and it helped the story a lot, and I think it fits in with this story, so yeah. Credit for that Idea goes to Jennifer Lynn Barnes, the author of the Naturals series. Some chapters will have it, some won't. **

**Comments are appreciated, even though my writing sucks!  
**

**Thanks!**

**TempestWolf999**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm back...**

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

* * *

Tia p.o.v.

She felt like she was intruding, and she didn't like it.

Mary, John's wife, stood in the doorway awkwardly, her eyes darting and taking in everything in the room. Sherlock and his brother seemed to be having a staring contest, and John was staring at his wife as if he thought she was a hallucination. Rosie giggled on the floor and chewed on the end of a pencil.

"Well," Sherlock said at last, "Would someone care to explain what is going on?"

Mycroft sighed. "You are a subject of national security."

"And?"

"With Mary around, that security was compromised."

"So you faked her death and threw her in prison. Bloody hell, Mycroft," John growled, "Do you enjoy locking people up?"

"We had no other choice with Euros."

"I'm not talking about Euros!"

"Who's Euros?" Tia asked.

Mycroft glared at her, or maybe he was just looking in her direction. It was hard to tell. "Euros is none of your concern."

"That doesn't change the fact that you _incarcerated my wife!_" John hissed.

"I never said it did, Doctor Watson. Anyhow, Mary is free now due to some... complications in the security of the prison she was in. That's why I'm here," Mycroft explained. The whole conversation seemed to tire him out.

"Who is Euros?" Mary asked.

"Irrelevant. Now, the prison-"

"Boring. leave," Sherlock snapped, still sifting through papers.

"Sherl-"

"Leave. Now."

The elder Holmes left the room with a sigh. Tia heard him leave the front door. As soon as the door slammed shut, Sherlock leaped to his feet and started searching through drawers.

"So, um- how have things been?" Mary asked John as she stooped to lift up Rosie. John began talking, and Tia figured she should let them catch up. So, she did the obvious thing- bother Sherlock.

"What are you looking for?" she asked the crazed (yes, _crazed) _detective.

"Data," he half shouted, dumping out the contents of yet another drawer.

"Right," she said. "So... I'm going to go make sure that my cats didn't get out when your brother broke in, so..."

The only response she got was more papers and folders falling to the floor, so Tia walked downstairs. Just as she reached the bottom, she heard John yell, "Sherlock, is that my _gun?_ When the hell..."

She had no idea how her aunt stood for such a lifestyle. Then again, she had no idea if her normal life would ever seem, well, _normal _again after this experience. And the weirdest part was, she hadn't even been there for a very long time.

As it turned out, her cats had not escaped. She found the pan she had threatened Mycroft with on the table along with her aunt's instructions and warnings and whatnot. She put the pan away and put the binder on the counter. The she found her phone and checked for messages.

There were two text messages and one missed call. One of the texts was from her best friend from high school- Diana Hunter. She had met Diana (nicknamed Di) on the first day of year 9, and they'd been best friends ever since. Unfortunately, Di had gone to law school, so they hadn't seen much of each other in recent times. The text read,

_Hey, heard you were looking after your aunt's place. What's up? -DH_

The other one wasn't from one of her contacts. When she tried to find the number, it simply read _BLOCKED._ When she opened the message and read it, her heart dropped into her stomach.

_You watch your victim go about their home as if they would be there forever._

_They were foolish._

_Everyone is._

_Hell, _you _consider yourself to be and idiot._

_But it doesn't matter._

_You can shoot and fight._

_That's what matters._

_You pull the trigger._

_Your victim drops dead._

_Idiots._

_Almost everyone is an idiot._

_Including you._

_But that doesn't matter._

_Hope you like my riddle, sweetheart! ;) _

_Sincerely,_

_You_

In that moment, she forgets who she is, where she is, and what she's doing. Panic seized her, starting in her ribs and working it's way up her spine. She forgot how to breath. In the rational part of her brain (a very _small_ part, mind you), she knew that it was probably just a joke. But it was scary. Then her brain produced a thought and she calmed down. It was a joke, probably, from someone who wanted to scare her away.

The stalker.

Sherlock Holmes.

She picked up her phone from the floor where she'd apparently dropped it with shaking hands. Then she looked at the number for the missed call.

_BLOCKED._

Bingo.

She stormed up the stairs in a burst of anger at Sherlock Holmes for trying to scare her away and threw open the door (effectively scaring John Watson out of his skin, not that he'd ever admit it).

"What the _bloody hell _convinced you that _this,_" she gestured angrily at the mobile, "was an acceptable joke!?"

Her words were aimed at Sherlock, even though she was glaring at the wall. Sherlock had the nerve to look confused.

"Sorry- what?"

She punched him in the nose.

In her own defense, he deserved it.

About five minuted later, when she was calm enough to not punch anyone, the four of them were sitting at the table. Sherlock was holding a large amount of paper towels over his nose, as it was bleeding.

Profusely.

She definitely wasn't sorry. Even if he didn't send the text, he did shoot the wall.

"Tia? Can you explain what happened?" Mary asked. John couldn't. He was too amused. And Sherlock... well...

She laid her mobile on the table. "This gave me a heart attack," she said, gesturing to the message.

Mary smiled patiently and picked up the phone. As she read the 'riddle', her smile faded. John read if over her shoulder.

"Sherlock, look at this." His voice was deadly serious.

Sherlock held out a bloody hand, still holding the paper over his face with the other one.

"Eh..." John said. "Wash your hands first."

The phone chirped with an incoming message. Tia grabbed her phone and read it, thinking that it was from Diana.

It wasn't.

She must have looked terrified, because Mary said, "What is it?"

She held up the message for them to see.

_Then again, you're not smart enough._

_Good of you to go to Sherlock. Me and him, we go waaaay back._

_Do you want another clue?_

_You_

_-BLOCKED_

* * *

**A/N: Okay, guys, if anyone's reading this: I am so so sorry for the hiatus. It took longer than I thought it would. Then, when I started typing this, my cat decided to help by walking on my keyboard so I had to fix that. But I am back, and I should be updating regularly again. **

**So, if anyone's reading this: please tell me what you think. I know it's not the best, but still... constructive criticism is more than welcome. Just a note, my 'y' key doesn't always work, so if you see a place where a 'y' should be but isn't, please let me know. Usually I catch them all, but... yeah. So please review or PM me if you have the time to spare. It helps.**

**TempestWolf999**


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